Forgotten Rules: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Eliah Greenwood

  Lacking the necessary energy to fight him, I switch off the lights, crawl into bed, and pull up Netflix. I always fall asleep watching something, whether it be a show or movie. Been doing it for as long as I can remember.

  Next thing I know, Will’s lying right next to me. Faking carelessness, I flip to the opposite side. The room is dark, its only source of light the lamp in the hall, which peeks under my closed bedroom door. I forgot to turn it off. Got busy squeezing a concussion in my schedule instead.

  “What are we watching?” His breath fans my cheek.

  My body tenses.

  When the hell did he get this close?

  He’s right behind me, hard chest pressed to my back. We’re not spooning exactly, but a few more inches and we would be.

  “Are you ignoring me?” he says in a husky voice.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I say, sounding a bit strangled.

  “Sure. If you tell me what’s wrong.”

  This again.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Spare me the bullshit. The look on your face when you came into the house already betrayed you.”

  While part of me is annoyed by his persistence, the other is… glad? I’m strangely happy that he noticed my pain. When I don’t reply, Will distances himself from me—to my unexpected disappointment—retreating to his side. I roll over to face him. He braces his head on his elbow, the hall’s gleam highlighting his cut jaw and chiseled features.

  Good God, he’s hot even in the dark.

  He speaks first. “Is it Zoey? Do I need to kick her ass?”

  “Let’s say it was—what are you going to do? Punch a girl?”

  “Fine. Then I’ll ruin her day. Break her heel or something.”

  I chortle. “Is this really what you think ruins a girl’s day?”

  “Hers? Yeah.”

  “Shallow much?”

  “I’m sorry, have you met the girl? A puddle looks deep next to her.”

  I hate how easily he’s got me to laugh. I’m about to answer when a knock on my bedroom door launches my pulse to space.

  “Kass, honey, are you still up?”

  We both freeze.

  My mom’s home.

  It’s fine. Just pretend you’re sleeping.

  “Sweetie, I heard you laughing. I know you’re up. Tell Morgan you’ll call her back tomorrow. It’s late. Can I have a hug good night?”

  “Just a second,” I holler, staring at the annoyingly attractive problem next to me. Hide, my eyes scream. He does just that, opting for the world’s most original hiding spot: the gap under my bed.

  “Come in.”

  My mom obliges, twisting the knob and opening her arms for me. The hug good night is no biggie. It’s the conversation she gets into next that makes me wish I was deaf.

  “So…” She sits on the edge of my bed. “I don’t mean to pry, but I overheard you talking on the phone with Morgan earlier today. You said something about a date tomorrow. With a boy named Luke, is it?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s just… You’ve never really had a boyfriend before, and I want to make sure you’ll be…” She hesitates. “Safe when the time comes.”

  No way this is happening.

  “Mom, I really don’t need you to give me the tal—”

  “But I do. I need to give it to you. As a mom. Let me do this, please.”

  No, no. Please don’t go there, my eyes plead. Not now.

  “Sometimes, men are selfish, and I just… want you to stand your ground. It doesn’t matter if they say it doesn’t feel good with a condom, you stay safe, no matter what. It’s easy to let your partner convince you. It’s important that you find a man who gives you just as much pleasure as you give him. A selfish man in bed will be a selfish partner in life. Okay?”

  Honest to god, someone knock me out.

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  It takes me a whole five minutes to get her to leave. As soon as the door shuts and her footsteps die down the hall, Will bursts out laughing.

  Thanks, Mom.

  “Shut up.” I drop onto my bed with a groan. Will slides out from under my mattress and plops down next to me, trying so hard to muffle his laughter he’s nearly suffocating. “Keep laughing, and I’ll out you to my mom myself.”

  He ignores me, his contagious laughter chipping away at my anger until I find humor where I first found embarrassment.

  “Damn it. What’s with the most humiliating moments of my life all happening in the two minutes you’ve been here?” I nuzzle my face between my hands.

  “Please,” he scoffs. “The fall doesn’t even come close to this.”

  I remove my hands from my face with a laugh.

  “I hate you,” I tell him.

  My mouth said one thing.

  My smile said another.

  He stops laughing, flicks his head sideways, and searches my eyes for a lie. One I’m not quick enough to hide. Long seconds pass before he smiles and says,

  “No, you don’t.”

  And the worst part is, he’s right.

  I don’t.

  “Don’t be mad at her. She’s a good mom.” He rips his eyes away, letting the tension taper off. His voice is a bit strained from laughing too hard. “Everything she said is true. I hope you’ll follow her advice.”

  Is he trying to tell me something?

  “With Luke, I mean.”

  Oh.

  “You guys are still on for tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Yep.” I draw a sigh. “Although I’ve been trying to think of an excuse to bail.”

  “Come on, don’t do the poor dude like that. Just give him a chance. I’m sure he’s the kind of guy to…” He takes on a high-pitched voice, impersonating my mother. “Give a woman as much pleasure as she gives him.”

  I swat him in the arm.

  Again, thanks, Mom.

  “Yeah, well, he would be the first,” I mutter to myself, only realizing what I’ve just said when Will’s face falls.

  “Wait…” His eyes grow. “Have you never…”

  Why on earth did I have to say that?

  “Like never? Not even by yourself? You’ve never c—”

  “I know how to take care of myself, if that’s what you’re asking.” My face heats up to a thousand degrees. “It’s just Blake was never really…”

  “Satisfying?” he finishes.

  “Caring,” I revise. “He only cared about himself. I don’t think he ever even tried.”

  “You’re fucking with me.”

  My silence answers him.

  “And you stayed with him for six months?” He’s appalled.

  Uncomfortable, I nod, nibbling at the inside of my cheek.

  “Fucking hell. Six months with a guy who can’t get you off. You’re some other kind of saint, control freak.”

  I answer with a small shrug, hoping a change of subject is near. His disapproval hits me a lot harder than I’d like to let on. So, this isn’t normal. When I first told Zoey about the situation, she said, “Big deal. Most guys can’t get you there. Join the club.” I spent the whole day afterward convincing myself I was being difficult.

  But right now, with Will lying next to me, telling me how much of a selfish bastard Blake was, I realize our sex was one-sided. There weren’t two of us in that tent the night he took my virginity.

  Blake was the one having sex.

  I was just… there.

  I can’t seem to forget the pit in my throat when he pulled out, rolled off me, and went right to sleep. It made me think that maybe I’d never find the guy my mom’s been going on and on about since I was old enough to date.

  The right guy.

  I’m relieved when Will changes the topic, rescuing me from a dark place. We spend the next several hours talking, bickering, getting on each other’s nerves. We watch a show, discuss how Kendrick and Zoey would be a match made in hell, and forget all the reasons why Will shouldn’t be in my bed.

&
nbsp; Two hours later, we’re still talking, although barely keeping our eyes open. Just as I’m dozing off, Will brings up the painful memory I spent all night pushing down.

  “You still haven’t told me why you were sad earlier. What happened?”

  “That’s because I wasn’t sad. You just assumed for whatever reason that I was.”

  He scoffs, not buying it.

  “Yeah, let’s try that again.” He inches forward, as if to make sure he has my undivided attention as he repeats, “What happened?”

  I draw a sigh.

  “My dad happened,” I cave.

  He waits for me to elaborate.

  “I called him earlier.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” he asks.

  “It is if some random woman picks up.”

  Understanding flashes in his eyes. He already knows my parents are getting a divorce. He is still Kendrick’s closest friend.

  “Ouch.” He winces.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “And he didn’t tell you he was seeing someone?”

  “That would require any form of communication. He hasn’t called once since he walked out on us two months ago.” I flip on my back, staring at the ceiling.

  He does the same.

  “What an ass.”

  I laugh at his blunt remark.

  “He isn’t. Or, he didn’t use to be. He was a good dad… before.” I tilt my head to look at him. “How much do you know about what happened anyway?”

  “Just what Kendrick told me.” He shrugs. “That your folks got into a huge fight and your dad took off. Don’t know why though.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  “You’re telling me you don’t even have one idea?”

  “My guess is he cheated on her. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But why wouldn’t they just tell me that? If they felt they had to keep it from me, it must be worse. A lot worse.”

  “Maybe they’re just trying to protect you,” he points out.

  “I don’t need their protection. What I need is the goddamn truth,” I snap, instantly berating myself for taking it out on him.

  He doesn’t so much as flinch.

  “I’m sorry.” I exhale.

  “Don’t apologize.” He couldn’t care less if he tried.

  “The weeks after he left, Kendrick was extra nice to my mom, and you know how he is. Kendrick being a kiss-ass can only mean two things: either he wants something, or he feels guilty. There’s more to the story. There has to be.”

  “Ever tried asking him about it?” he asks.

  “Yeah, but he always denies it.”

  “The truth will come out one way or another. It always does.” His heavy eyes shutter closed.

  Mine follow.

  “Hope you’re right.”

  He lets out a deep, rough laugh.

  “I’m always right, control freak.”

  I can picture his stupid, sexy grin and sleepy face without looking at him. A short moment of silence ensues, but it’s not uncomfortable. We simultaneously glance at each other.

  Damn you, Martins.

  Why is it so easy with you?

  “What about you? Got any bad parenting stories for me?”

  He scoffs. “How much time you got?”

  I know he’s joking, but his voice drips with truth.

  “That bad?”

  “Worse. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “What? Now you have to tell me. I don’t make the rules.”

  “Man.” He drags a long sigh. “Where do I begin? Dad took off with every penny we had when I was eight, spent it all at the casino, and left my mom and I to live on the street.”

  I’m left speechless. I did not see that coming.

  “I’m… I’m so sorry” is the only answer I can come up with.

  “Don’t be. Bastard got what was coming to him. They found him dead in the parking lot the next day. Shot in the head. But not before he’d gambled away every last cent.” He speaks as though it doesn’t affect him, like the story he’s sharing belongs to someone else.

  “That’s awful. Did they ever find out who did it?”

  “Nope. They think he just messed with the wrong guys. Or maybe he owed someone else money. Who knows?”

  I remember the rich neighborhood we drove through the night Will took me to his tree house.

  “That’s why you knew the neighborhood we went to so well, right? Because you used to live there before he…” I press my lips together. I could slap myself. Way to be insensitive.

  “It’s fine. You can say it.”

  “Before he died.”

  “Yeah. We had to leave the house my mom spent years saving for after he took everything. She’d just quit her job to start her jewelry business, too. We were finally in a good place. She could afford to chase her dream. A week later, we were moving into a one-bedroom dumpster. Then into a homeless shelter. She had no one. No relatives. No friends. My toxic old man had isolated her for so long. I was in denial. I was eight, you know?”

  My heart bleeds for him.

  “The worst part is, he was always a good dad to me. He was the kind of dad to build you a fucking tree house just because you asked. That’s why I couldn’t hate him. I couldn’t believe he was dead, or that he’d emptied all of our accounts and left us with nothing.”

  “What did your mom tell you?” I can’t possibly imagine explaining this to an eight-year-old boy.

  “She spent years trying to convince me he went to the casino that night hoping to double the money he’d stolen and come back home to us. I believed her for a while, but now I know it was a load of bullshit. He wasn’t a saint. Or a caring parent. He was nothing but a sick man with a gambling addiction. When my mom’s folks passed away and she got her inheritance, he couldn’t take it anymore. He just snapped. Took everything and ran.”

  So, not only did he steal his family’s money, he stole the money his wife got from her dead parents, too?

  Because it wasn’t bad enough.

  “How’s your mom now? Please tell me she recovered.”

  Something shifts in his eyes, but I can’t tell what.

  “Yeah. She’s fine now.”

  Thank God.

  “She found work again?” I ask.

  He gives me a faint nod.

  “Good.”

  A beat of silence.

  “You win, Willy.”

  Confusion blazes in his eyes.

  “In the worst-parents department, you win.” I offer him an apologetic smile that he barely returns. From there, we stop talking, neither of us questioning whether he’s staying the night. The answer seems evident. I turn my back on him, ready to black out and feel him slip under the blanket with me.

  But I’m far from prepared for what he does next.

  He moves closer, bands his arm around my waist, and leads me to his chest. With that one simple move, my lungs bail on me. He holds me. No questions asked, no explanation. I can’t seem to wrap my head around this moment.

  Will is in my bed. My brother’s best bud, the dumbass who pushed me in the pool too many times to count last summer, the guy I once thought had air where his brain should be, is spending the night in my bed. Cuddling me. What in the fuck is happening right now?

  It should be weird.

  But it’s not.

  Somehow, it’s the most not weird thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

  “I’m sorry about your dad, Will,” I whisper seconds before we pass out.

  “I’m sorry about your dad, Kass.”

  I smile. It’s a small smile, barely there, but it’s real.

  Why?

  It’s the first time Will’s ever called me Kass.

  Kassidy

  “You are never going to guess what Callie told me in gym,” Zoey gushes when we settle around a table at lunch. Toying with the plastic fork in my hand, I assess the crowded cafeteria and its hideous orange brick walls. Meanwhile, Morgan and Winter don�
��t even pretend to care about the newest gossip, eyes fixed to their phones.

  Winter recently started eating with us, although she keeps to herself most of the time. Today especially. She seems distracted, somewhere else. And I mean “another planet” somewhere else.

  My money is on Haze.

  “Hello?” Zoey presses. “I said you’re never going to guess what Callie told me.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Morgan drawls.

  “What? No, that was a false alarm,” Zoey debunks, and I almost snicker at the fact that Morgan said something at the top of her head and still got it right. It’s no secret that Callie Cooper, a good friend of Zoey, sleeps around. I say that’s her choice, but it earned her quite the reputation.

  “Then what? Spill.” I take a quick bite of my food.

  “Remember when I said I was after Hottie Blondie?”

  My head snaps up.

  “Yeah?” Morgan nods.

  I stop chewing, like I’m afraid it’ll keep me from hearing what she says next.

  “Seems I’m going to have to find myself another rebound because apparently he’s taken.”

  I’ve never swallowed salad so fast.

  “What?” I say a bit louder than intended and catch Morgan’s eyebrows furrowing in suspicion from the corner of my eye.

  Oops.

  “Yeah, Callie’s been hitting that. I had no idea.”

  “What do you mean ‘hitting that’? Are they… dating?” I ask.

  “Nah. They’re just fucking. Or so she said, but it’s obvious she wants more.”

  It feels like a pit the size of my fist is crawling up my throat.

  “What’s with the angry face, Kass? You should be happy. You didn’t want me with your brother’s friend. Now he’s off-limits,” Zoey says blatantly, missing every sign.

  I’m not angry.

  I’m hurt.

  Why am I hurt?

  My thoughts travel to the moment I woke up alone three days ago. Will snuck out when I was sleeping. Not that it bothers me. It would’ve too been risky for him to stay. My mom comes into my room every day at eight fifteen sharp. No, what rubbed me the wrong way was the text waiting on my locked screen when I rolled out of bed.